13. The Geologist

Sir Alexander Lyell, the famous Scottish geologist, spent a major part of his formative years as an amateur rock collector combing the beaches and fossil deposits of the Fife coast. Sandy, as he was known to his colleagues, was credited with piecing to-gether the geological record of the area based on his discovery of exposed layers of Precambrian era sandstone laid down by vast waters eons ago. Locals had come to regard him as part of the furniture because he was seen so frequently in his distinctive green jacket excavating along the shore. Invariably he was to be found clambering over dunes and scrambling out of deep sand bunkers as if he were a week-end golfer. Soon his understanding of the region’s links to the past exposed him as a real master of his field. In his native city, Edinburgh, the Athens of the north, his fame came to rival that of the august citizens of a less influential Athens. Deciphering his scribbled notes caused scholars years later no end of grief, some saying it was all Greek to them others more informed saying Double Dutch. Sandy’s contribution to the earth sciences however is undeniable. Coincidentally, Arsenal fancied himself a geologist one day, should he ever find himself discarded and rock bottom in the managerial world of competitive football. He and Rotter frequently retraced the imagined steps of Lyell along the coast as if indeed he, Arsenal, could see illustrious footprints cast in stone. Although he knew himself not to be on a par with Lyell, Arsenal would often putter away in his garage with the samples he would amass with the premonition he was about to make an earth shattering discovery. He spent many hours cataloguing his finds which worked well as an antidote to the stresses of managing the Aces.

 

Lilliput went mental whenever she found yet another sea-shore-combing absence of her mister fix-it husband upon whom she relied to keep her home (she had her name on the deed) intact. She was all thumbs yet Arsenal was the quintessential handyman, always with a make-do solution. Some of his methods were antediluvian but she recognized over time that his imperfect ways were practical and worked, that is when they worked. As autumn approached Lilliput was anxious to get several domestic projects completed. Arsenal, not so much. His approach went something like this. He would encourage his players when they were chasing down a fifty fifty ball to rush to collect it then have time to decide how best to proceed once in possession. “You have less time than you think but more than you know,” he would say. So when it came to beating seasonal deadlines for handyman stints Arsenal knew to start early and relax once on the job. But what he knew in theory was rarely implemented in practice. One thing held him back. Lethargy! The fact the chimney pot was teetering with the gales of November forecast to come early was worrisome but not critical, yet, he would think. Time is still on my side, for this instant at least, would then formulate as a back-up thought. Lilliput’s latest hobby horse was to install an island kitchen. This potential construction disruption had Arsenal scurrying out the door for the safe haven of another island. His lame excuse was that he was needed at the ground, at 11 pm when no one was ever around.

 

Strangely enough the floodlights were on when Arsenal pulled up. They illuminated the pitch as if it were an oasis seen from distance. It was an even more eerie and incongruous sight when seen from offshore. Arsenal was curious as to who on earth was around at that ungodly hour. Turned out it was the latch key kid himself, Duncan. At 32 Duncan still lived with his parents. There were multiple explanations why this was the case. Whatever. On this particular evening his parents were attending a Ceilidh at Lord McGillicuddy’s Estate and they had inadvertently left him locked out of the house, an all too common occurrence in his household. Duncan was still not trusted with a key of his own or perhaps it was just that when last the locks were changed mum and dad had failed to notify their son. One way or the other Duncan coped. One mechanism was to shoot on down to the field where he knew how to operate the floodlights at night when the place was abandoned. Bogey, the groundskeeper, had shown him the push button in the hidden panel box some months before. Duncan had retrieved a mesh full of practice balls and when Arsenal arrived he was firing balls at the empty net, ostensibly practicing his dream goal. Ideally it would zing one off the post and he would flick the resulting high rebound off the underside of the crossbar into the yawning goal with the goalie left flailing. In a game situation it would be a spectacular scene and make it to Scotsport TV highlights one would imagine, although TV programmers usually gave visits to Anstruther the thumbs down.

 

Arsenal had first encountered Duncan at Frothy’s. Duncan had been a waiter there and upon first clapping eyes on Arsenal had said to him “You’re Arsenal Wenger, ain’t you? So what!” and had precipitously walked away to serve some more worthy customers. Despite this affront, over the succeeding weeks Arsenal had got to know the lad and upon Lachlan’s recommendation had given him a trial. Result, flying colours and a place in the team. Arsenal had recognized the sandpaper in Duncan’s make up and this he needed in his starting eleven. Duncan had been an early adopter of Arsenal’s innovative tactics and this lead had rubbed off on others in the team. Duncan was a fanatic user of his fit bit wrist technology and his hard scrabble attitude played a large part in the Aces reversing a game day tendency to slip sideways.

 

On Thursday morning Nobby came to the cubby hole which served as Arsenal’s office in the converted shipping container. He reported that travel arrangements for the next away game were concluded. Could he get the 2400 pounds to buy the tickets? Arsenal thought he must have wax in his ears. Twenty four hundred quid to get the team to Easter Road? Yes, but that’s return Nobby was quick to underline. Arsenal smelt a rat. Nobby was used to inflated costs related to being flown all over hell’s half acres in his mum’s chopper. Exorbitant amounts of money washed like water off a duck’s back as far as he was concerned. He saw nothing suspicious. Arsenal worriedly embarked upon a deep financial audit. It turned out Nobby had mixed up Hibernians in Malta with Hibernians across the estuary. There would be no Anstruther Aces taking the field in scorching Valetta anytime soon after all. The revised princely figure was thirty three pounds bus fares for the whole team and entourage. That was certainly a bit more palatable. The corrections online took twenty minutes to conclude but that included 12 minutes diverted by click bait which for most consumers was no more than their average time waste.